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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523148">Fade to Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Operaghostangst/pseuds/Operaghostangst'>Operaghostangst</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera &amp; Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because sometimes cliches are too good to resist, Deformity is actually an injury trope, Drug Addiction, Erik was in a symphonic metal band, F/M, Modern AU, Modern Era, Questionable Coping Mechanisms, Raoul/Meg are side characters and a side pairing, Somewhat graphic description of an injury in the first chapter, Suicidal Thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:41:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Operaghostangst/pseuds/Operaghostangst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Benoit and his band had been on top of the world for years, until an unfortunate mistake. He had become a recluse that swears he'll never even humor the idea of music again.  He has no will to do anything and nothing seems to help. His closest friends are surprised that he's still alive and so is he. He doesn't exactly wish to be. Could stumbling across a woman with the appearance and the vocal chords of an angel change his outlook?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Meg Giry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First few chapters may be rather slow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Everything seemed to be going so well. He had thought that people would lose interest after their second world tour- but that didn’t seem to be the case. Further proof of this was the fact that the energy of the crowds had never wavered at all during this tour. He couldn’t help the feeling of pride that welled up inside him. He had made something of himself despite his mother finding his career choice unrealistic and a fool’s dream. Not that he particularly cared what the heartless wench thought. She’d never wanted to be a mother and she had a tendency to use that as an excuse to treat him like trash during his childhood.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> None of that mattered now and it certainly didn’t matter tonight. He wouldn’t allow his impromptu reminiscing to ruin the show for these people. Especially not after their continued support.  It would be a shame to give them his all only to disappoint them for the final number, leaving them walking away with a sour taste in their mouths. It would kill their career and their momentum if he allowed that to happen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a brief discussion between the members of the band before they returned to their places, his being behind the microphone. He announced the song and let it begin. He paced a little as he waited for his cue, taking it with impeccable timing.  Half way through the song, it was time to wow them with some pyrotechnics. Just an added little treat to make it truly memorable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Unfortunately it would seem that the pyrotechnician hadn’t been paying too much attention to where the band members would be and when because he pressed the wrong button. The button sent up flames- directly into Erik’s face. The usually beautiful vocals turned into guttural screams and gasps. The rest of the band was frozen in shock. Thankfully the medics backstage rushed forwards, not waiting to be called for. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Erik was too distracted to notice the help- even if he fought against it for a couple of seconds. His mind was too consumed with the burning sensation and the smell of smoke. There were also the awful undertones of burning flesh. They’d thankfully taken care of the fire before it could do too much more damage, but the poor man collapsed, passing out due to the pain.  This simply made it easier for them to load him onto a stretcher and carry him out for further medical attention. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Suddenly… It was all too real. </em>
</p><hr/><p>Erik awoke with a start, gasping and clutching his chest with a slender hand as he waited for his heartbeat to slow back down to its normal pace. He was beginning to hate sleeping. Especially when all he did in his dreams was relive the night that ruined his life and career over and over. He supposed he’d been lucky in the sense that he miraculously still had his sight and his hair… but it didn’t feel lucky or like it was a miracle.</p><p>He pushed himself off of his couch and stumbled towards the bathroom, flipping the light on. He avoided looking at the mirror, turning the water on and leaning over the sink. He used his cupped hands to throw cold water onto his face, his amber gaze unfortunately flicking upwards as he peered into the mirror against his better judgement. God.. it was still hard to look at himself. His flesh was twisted and his lips had become malformed.</p><p>They had just barely saved his nose, something he supposed he should be grateful for. It was hard though, especially when his face was far too damaged for plastic surgery to be something that they recommended. He often wore a mask when Nadir visited or when he absolutely had to go out- but the harsh material rubbed against his face and made it sore and incredibly tender.</p><p>He knew what he needed right now and that was to be completely numb. Nadir would be angry and try to lecture him about the damage he was doing to the rest of his body, but his old friend was under the delusion that he cared what happened to him now. No one did. Why should they? He was hardly the man he used to be, not even remotely.</p><p>He wandered towards his bedroom and rooted through his dresser drawers until he found his morphine and the syringes. He immediately grabbed some and kicked the dresser door shut as he lounged back on his bed. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and grabbed the large rubber strip that he hid under his pillow nowadays. He wrapped it around his arm and tightened it until some viable veins were more obvious. </p><p>Erik was usually content enough with one dose.. But tonight he felt like pushing the envelope a bit. Who knew? Maybe he’d become more used to the drug than he thought. Even better, perhaps tonight would be the night that his misery would end. It wasn’t as if anyone would miss him and it wasn’t like he was giving up anything special. He’d just have to wait and see how the night went.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: overdose.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nadir hadn't seen Erik in days,  which was to be expected after the accident that he'd had. But he usually made an attempt to answer the messages that he received. That hadn't been happening- so he felt well within his rights to go check on his old friend. Even if the man hated being seen in person these days. The journey to Erik's house had been rather long but that was because his friend had ensured that hardly anyone would be around him. One could probably call him a recluse in that sense.</p><p>Once he reached his destination, he hopped out of the car and rushed to the door, panicking when he found it slightly ajar. He pushed it open even further and rushed inside, stopping short in response to the sight that met his eyes. Erik laid on the couch, limp and pale. His eyes were closed but his chest was heaving shallowly- though it was slow. Perhaps not too slow just yet, but who knew when that would change?  One arm dangled off of the couch limply and it became rather obvious as to what had lead the man being in this state. The needle was still buried deep within his arm.</p><p>He rushed over once he regained his bearings and dropped to his knees, something that was stupid in hindsight. He was very lucky to not be poked by one of the few used needles that were scattered across the floor in front of the couch. He grabbed the limp arm and felt some relief when he realized it was still warm. However, he didn't dwell on this for too long. In his panic, he pulled the needle out of his arm and tossed it to the side. He removed the makeshift tourniquet on the unconscious man's upper arm as well. He sat back on his haunches and considered the options. </p><p><br/>Calling an ambulance seemed like the better option but it would take them too long as Erik lived so far from anything. He would just have to handle it himself, and if he received a speeding ticket so be it. He managed to lift the dead weight off of the couch and heaved him towards the car. He laid him in the back and threw himself in the front of the car. He slammed the door shut and immediately took off. He barely paid attention to any streetlights that he encountered or stop signs. Thankfully- the roads were mostly empty and there were no police around. There were angry honks but he ignored them. They could get over themselves. The soft groans and the occasional choked breath from the man in the backseat was comforting and concerning all at once.</p><p>Arriving at the hospital, he hopped out of the car and immediately hefted Erik up and out of the cars. In the back of his mind, he was sure that he was going to end up throwing his back out. But at the moment that wasn't his concern. He hurried them inside and their was immediate panic from the nurses. A bed was rolled out and he laid him down on it. Erik was taken back almost immediately and he nearly collapsed into a waiting room chair, finally having the chance to relax. </p><hr/><p>Christine Daae had just arrived at the hospital for her shift as a doctor, not quite expecting be snagged by a panicking nurse as soon as she clocked in. Nor did she expect for Meg to drag her to a room holding such a high profile patient. Erik Benoit. She had always admired him, even when she was young. Even for the genre of music his band played, he'd been entirely too talented. He could've been so much more than a front man but the career had been cut short. </p><p>  But now was not the time to reminisce about her childhood celebrity crush. She was to be his doctor and she had to remain perfectly professional. She looked at the clipboard and did a small check up while he was unconscious. She administered something that would hopefully not be too late- the man's friend really should've called an ambulance, especially when it was unclear how long he'd been in this state before he'd found him. </p><p>   Without really thinking about it, she ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "You're nothing but a shadow of yourself...It's a shame everyone let you get to this point." She murmured softly before jerking her hand back. She turned on heel, mentally making a list of things that they'd need to test when he came to. If he ever came to. </p>
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